Vision of the Night
by Illusion-Factory
Summary: In the morning all she could recall were abstract colors and sounds, but she had never felt more safe and loved.  Post series end.


Disclaimer: I don't own Penguindrum

Oh wait, what? This isn't a pokemon story? Sorry guys, next time, I promise.

*edit*added some small things and tightened the story up a bit. *edit*

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><p>There was this dream Himari had, a recurring dream, which followed her from the time she was toddler to her adulthood. Whenever she was very sad, or upset or scared, she always had the same dream upon falling asleep. When she woke up after having this dream, she always felt better then when she had gone to bed the previous night. It calmed her down, made her feel safe and warm. Himari usually went through the next day on a small cloud of happiness. If asked though, she wouldn't have been able to relay her dream. It wasn't the kind of dream that she could recall in all clarity when she woke up the next morning. She mostly remembered impressions, backgrounds and colors. And this was only because the dream was a recurring dream.<p>

The dream always took place in the same place, her bedroom. But her room was much different from her waking one. For one there was a large magnificent bed in the center of the room, made up with soft blankets and a large pillow; deep red curtains were draped from the canopy. But that was not all, the room itself was cluttered; books were piled on every surface and knitting materials were heaped in a basket by the foot of the bed. Soft light filled the room from the hanging candle lights and starlight coming in from the window. It was always night during her dream and the sky was always filled with the most splendid display of stars. Her bedroom, because this was her bedroom no matter how different it looked, was the only part of the dream Himari could described in great detail, the rest of her dream and what happened in it, were nothing more than splashes of color, sound and feelings.

There was always someone else in the room with her, always at least two others. Sometimes two young boys, sometimes two young men, and sometimes she would swear that anywhere between one to four penguins appeared as well. Himari would also swear that the two young men, high school aged, were the same two young boys, elementary aged, who were never in her dream at the same time. What they looked like continued to elude her. During the day, she might suddenly have a flash of deju vu when looking at the boy's school uniform, with its bright red pants and black jacket. She could remember the way the light caught dark red hair, or how blue hair shimmered in the starlight and the exact color of the two sets of sea green eyes. But she could not place which boy had which hair color or if those were even their hair colors at all. And she could never quite remember their faces.

She could describe their voices however: one deep and commanding, the other higher and more clear. In the morning Himari had no clue what was talked about or said, but she could remember the tones. The voices swirled around in her in the dream, their tone and volume rising and falling, teasing and playful, meaningful and serious, comfortable and familiar all at once. Her own voice weaving among the other two seamlessly, as if there was a space left just for her voice. It was comforting, sitting there in her bedroom and talking or listening to the two boys talk. A part of her relaxed and the tension, or the sadness or the anger she had gone to bed with was eased until there was nothing left but a warm happy feeling.

The dream always ended the same way as well. Time seemed to vanish from that bedroom, but eventually she would begin to fall asleep. Now she had only feeling to rely on. The feeling of being hugged from both sides, of being squeezed tight by two people, of being tucked into the large bed, sheets and blankets pulled tightly over her form and then the quick press of a kiss on her cheek and one lingering one on her lips. And before she fell asleep in the dream to wake up in the real world, a soft chorus of the two voices, what they said she never knew, but she could certainly guess. Himari counted herself lucky to have these dreams. Because for all the weirdness, for all that she forgot, she always woke up feeling refreshed, energized and loved, very, very loved.


End file.
